A Second Opinion
by grell's lover
Summary: A Black Butler, Soul Eater, Ouran Host Club crossover. Work in progress. May contain yaoi in later chapters. Please read and comment! Enjoy! Rating may change


Ronald Knox shuffled sheepishly through Management's doorway; from a nearby stool, a red haired shinigami glanced up from filing his perfect nails.

"Sorry, man," Ronald muttered, "but it looks like your scythe was confiscated for good."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, man, the ladies in Management were ordered to confiscate the…"

The red head leapt of his stool and bounded over to the smaller reaper.

"Who put out this order?" he asked quietly.

Ronald shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"Tell me!"

"Okay, Grell, but listen, you won't like this. It was William."

"William!" Grell cried in his desperate, disbelieving tone devoid of all seriousness and coated with overdramatic melancholy, "so cruel, so cold! He hasn't changed a bit, you know? Not since we were assigned the…"

"That will be quite enough," William appeared in the doorway, "let us not dwell on events of the past."

Grell sprung over to William and clutched his suit sleeve like a clingy child.

"Is what I hear true, Will-Chan? Have you ordered my death scythe to be…_confiscated_?"

Will brushed Grell from his arm.

"Yes it is true, and don't call me Will-Chan. It's William T. Spears to the likes of you. Now, for the paperwork."

He opened a manila file folder but Grell was too busy spewing dramatic nonsense to nobody in particular. William sighed in exasperation.

"Don't act so ignorant," he muttered, "you are being reassigned."

"I'm receiving a new death scythe?" he wondered hopefully.

"Yes, and I hope you will be more careful with this one."

Grell crossed his arms and replied defiantly, "I was careful with my chainsaw, Will-Chan."

William pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and reminded Grell, "Your chainsaw has been confiscated more times then I can count."

"So?" Grell pouted.

"So you are being reassigned."

William showed Grell the file folder.

"This new scythe is extra special…"

"Safety scissors?" Grell cut in.

"No," William replied, "Lord Death's personal scythe."

Grell's jaw dropped.

"His name is Spirit."

"And don't you forget it!"

William moved aside and a tall, smartly dressed man entered the room. Grell's eyes popped from his head.

"Grell Sutcliff?" Spirit offered a hand.

Grell twirled on his heel and sang, "Ahhh, Will-Chan is a most gracious in his gifts!"

He launched himself at Spirit and captured him in a massive bear hug. The other man was slightly bewildered and glanced at William. The shinigami smirked and said coolly, "I warned you."

William T. Spears glanced at his watch. As he looked up, a young woman entered the room and reported, "William Spears, the director will see you now."

As William turned to leave, Ronald slid over and offered the assistant his arm.

"Crystal, the director's secretary, right?"

"Why, yes," she replied, rather flustered.

"Let me walk you down. I know a shortcut."

He winked and Crystal giggled nervously as she allowed the young shinigami to escort her out. William turned to Grell and his new found friend.

"This is for you," he told Grell, handing him the file folder, "and try not to get sidetracked again."

Grell accepted the assignment folder. Spirit replied, "I will keep him in line, William. You can count on me."

"I sure hope so," William muttered hopelessly.

He left the two men alone in the management reception area.

Grell lazily fingered through the file folder.

"Will-Chan always sends me on the boring missions," he complained.

"Perhaps because he thinks it will keep you out of trouble," Spirit offered, "Mind if I look?"

Grell handed the scythe the folder. Spirit scanned the pages.

"Easy mission," he concluded, "Should this fellow live or die?"

"Die," Grell answered, "everyone should die."

He pulled a stamp from his coat pocket but Spirit stopped him.

"We haven't even observed him yet."

Grell raised an eyebrow.

"You sound so much like Will-Chan," he mused, "I remember the first time we…"

"Let's go," Spirit cut in impatiently, grabbing the reaper's sleeve and pulling him down the hall.

William T. Spears watched the new partners from his boss' window. He adjusted his glasses, a cocky gesture.

"I knew they would make a good team," William told his boss.

He turned to the masked shinigami with a small smile.

"All should be in order!" Lord Death chirped.

"I believe it is."

"_This_ is our man?" Grell murmured.

"According to our file, yes."

"What a bland character," Grell complained.

"His name is..."

Grell snatched the file folder from Spirit's hands.

"Whoever he is, he's a dead man."

He prepared to stamp the report again but Spirit grabbed his wrist, sending the stamp bouncing down the rooftops. Grell blushed as Spirit realized how close he was. He too colored and backed away.

"I...ah..."

There was a cry from the street. The two men glanced down to see a black haired boy studying their rubber stamp.

"Sebastian, what is this?"

The raven haired boy's companion told him, "It seems to be a shinigami stamp, my lord."

"Now look at what you've done," Spirit muttered, but when he glanced at his partner, the red head was nowhere to be found.


End file.
